I wake up gasping.

Nightmares slowly release their hold on me as I rise, the bed hot under my body from all the tossing and turning I'd done during my sleep.

Had V put me here?

Heart racing from the dreams that had plagued me, I slip out of my room to smell the sharp, metallic tang of blood in the air. Something horrible crosses through my mind as my nightmares transcend into reality— the claws, the pool of crimson.

The bitter stench of alcohol comes in wisps.

"V...?"

Tears well in the corners of my eyes as shock numbs my voice, freezes my entire body into icy ashes. His skin is cold to my touch, eyes closed and relaxed— as if he was merely sleeping.

I don't realize he's awake until his lips curve into a satisfied smile.

The tears come harder.

When he looks up at me in surprise, I can barely find words as he takes my sleeve, his hand heavy with strain. Confusion is apparent in his expression as he grazes the back of my wrist.

"Why are you crying?" He asks, as if him lying there covered in blood was the most common thing in this damned world. "Don't worry, Cher. I didn't lay a hand on him— I did everything you asked of me."

My world shatters.

Tears drench my cheeks as I cry, pain overwhelming the surprise in his concerned gaze. Realization burns through me like fire, turning my insides to poison.

Because I'd told him not to hurt anyone.

Because I'd been so, so stupid.

"Cher?" His voice grows more and more confused as I cry even harder. He was so innocent— too pure for this cursed world. I can't imagine— I can't believe that I'd failed so miserably to protect him.

"What's wrong?"

My voice is so slurred with tears it's barely audible. "Everything. V, you should've protected yourself. You should've fought back. You shouldn't have—"

Let my damned brother go like that.

"But you told me to not hurt anyone," He says, tilting his bloodstained head to the side. My heart breaks just watching him with that childlike expression.

"You told me it wasn't okay to hurt people."

"Not when they hurt you." Every word is strangled, choked out of my throat. Everything I said now mattered more than anything. "Not when they hurt you. It isn't okay. This isn't okay, V. My God, you're bleeding so much."

I'm going to kill him.

I swear I'm going to kill him.

"Where did he hit you? Where— Where does it hurt the most?" My eyes blur as I scramble to retrieve the medical kit, hands trembling violently. I would never forgive myself for sleeping through this like an idiot while he got hurt outside because of me. I would never.

"It's not as bad as it looks," He defends against my doubtful stare. His eyelids are fluttering— a sign that he was going to faint anytime soon.

My lips squeeze together to keep from crying even further as I steal glimpses of his steady, dark eyes, his blood thick against my fingertips. I find bruise after bruise— cut after cut underneath the layers of crimson as I work my way through with the medicine I have in my hands.

The murder in my eyes grow with every wince that pulls at his features.

"Are you alright?" He asks with curious eyes before a painful hiss escapes through his clenched teeth. "You look like you're going to kill me."

"Not you," I say darkly, eyes glowing with hatred as I carefully wrap gauze around a cut over his forearm.

"Can you lift the back of your shirt?"

When he stares at me, I look back for a blank, confused second before both realization and heat flashes through my cheeks. Scarlet paints my face as I stutter violently, nearly dropping the roll of bandage I have in my hand.

"I-I mean— not like that! I just want to check for more wounds— why are you looking at me with that face?"

His serious gaze softens into an amused smile as he nods, obviously enjoying me blushing my face off.

Somehow that blush manages to deepen when he turns his back to me, pulling his sweatshirt over his head to reveal a new canvas I'd never seen before.

What I see completely exceeds what I expect to see.

There are hundreds of scars. Many of them are faded, hinting that they are from his shrouded past as the fresh ones cross over them in a harsh layer of red.

There was just so many of them.

In the end, I practically slather and wrap his entire back with the sticky ointment and bandage considering the sheer amount of cuts that he carried with him.

"I'll find you some new clothes to wear," I say, hinting at the drying blood on the dark garment. "Because that's just not going to cut it for me. I don't want to see blood on you anymore."

He nods, and only then do I realize how pale he really does look. The blood loss was taking a toll on him, no matter what he claimed of his health.

And no way I was letting him rest in that cold, dark cell of his. No way.

"Do you think you can stand?" I ask as he nods forcefully, and take it immediately as a no. He already looked too pale for my comfort, and he didn't even seem to know that he was shaking.

"Put your arm around my shoulders," I instruct, careful to make sure not to disturb any of his wounds as his body leans heavily to mine. "You can stay in my room. It's much warmer in there."

V blinks, too drained to even give a single nod. His eyes are already drooping— only sheer willpower forcing them back open.

I want to tell him to relax and sleep, but I'm worried that once he does I won't be strong enough to get him situated.

A relieved sigh escapes my lips as I finally get to my room, pushing the door open and helping him on the bed. His body falls like stone against the mattress, and I'm in the middle of retrieving my blankets when I remember something I shouldn't have forgotten.

"V."

His eyes find mine instantly at my urgent tone, confusion apparent. He tilts his head in question as I blow out a frustrated breath.

How could I have forgotten this until now?

"Two weeks," I say. "You're being released in two weeks."

His eyes close, and he doesn't show any of the happy expression I'd partly expected. If all, his face has hardened even further.

"So?"

"You're being released, V." I ask confusedly, my eyes curving downwards from fading excitement. "Aren't you happy?"

At my question, he turns his head away. A few tense moments pass by before his voice echoes in the silent room, hopeless and unbelieving.

"What kind of idiot would take me?"

A smile lights up my face as I find his hand underneath the blankets. If he was worried over something like this, then I would solve it in a heartbeat.

My fingers squeeze against his as I lie my head against the edge of the bed, watching the moonlight glimmer against his sculpted side profile.

"I'd be that idiot."